An Unprecedented and Daring Leap of Plagiarism?

Sometimes things fall out of the sky and into my lap, things so wonderful and spectacular, that I must go ahead and publish them. Without permission of the author, without regard for my literary career, my following of faithful fans, my professional reputation, nay, not even fearing death, I present this comment, now for the first time in a blog entry of its own.

I am honored to present this comment from the mother of the Roman Sacristan!

Read on with me:

I am so proud. A mother seldom sees miracles involving her son, so I've followed with interest the adventures of the big blue van, and for the occasion of the Sacristan saga, I have penned a poem for you:

There once was a big ol'blue van
that struck a careless Sacristan.
The results of the wreck
saved believers from heck
and established the first rolling shrine -- Amen!

I have become a daily reader of your meanderings -- er, musings and look forward to new tales of ducks, scorpions, kids, and vans, and maybe even a stray Sacristan or two.

God bless! Sacristan's mom


My heart swelled up like that of a bloated tick upon reading these words. Thank you, Roman Sacristan's Mother, for your poetry, and most especially for your son, Roman Sacristan.






On another note....




On Monday night, we went to Mass to celebrate the feast of St. Augustine. Father gave a 20-plus minute sermon on St. Augustine and St. Monica, and read the passage from the Confessions of St. Augustine which includes the line, "late have I loved You..." where St. Augustine relates the time he wasted in the past, where he did not love or serve God.

After Mass, we planned on going right home, after picking up some hamburgers to go at the local Chew and Choke Family Burger Joint(another fine product from SSD/MetaltrAch, Inc.) . Father was going to have a Holy Hour, with the Rosary and Night Prayers. As I walked out of the church, something made me turn around. I wanted to stay. I suggested to my wife that she take the little kids to pick up the hamburgers, and I would remain with some of the older children for the Holy Hour. I went in and started praying the Rosary. Over a bit of time, my oldest sons crept in, most sitting behind me. I motioned them to join me in the same pew, and to pray along with the rest of us.

I was feeling a bit of that 'late have I loved you' feeling, considering that the lack of enthusiasm showing on my sons' faces mirrored that of my own when I was a teenager. I recall that I had more important things to do than hang out with God in the Church. I was very much into being cool, and Church was a place for

'Comfort for the weak and old women dressed in black'
(a real line from a real song by a real singer named Marie Bellet)

instead of cool people like me. So how could I instill the love I have for our Lord into my children? These were my thoughts as the Holy Hour Proceeded. I started recalling all those times when I participated in activities at Church, and all of those memories were suddenly wonderful. I recall, as a nine year old, going to Mass in a Swiss town called Visp, and participating in a Eucharistic Procession afterwards. I enjoyed it, even though my German was rather poor, and I really wanted to do the 'tourist things' before going to see the Matterhorn the next day. In that same year living in Switzerland, we went to a cloister. I misunderstood what a cloister was, and thought we were going to be locked inside for the rest of our lives. I knew I had to get back to the United States - they needed me! All the times I spent serving Mass, serving for the Stations of the Cross, or the Marathon Good Friday Services, suddenly were remembered as good times. I recall as a child how I would pray fervently for the shortest Eucharistic Prayer to be said at Mass - perhaps the first time in my life I ever really prayed! All of these memories had been transformed over the years into ones to be cherished.

I began to think, not for the first time, that raising our children consists largely of 'showing up' and being a good example to them of what it means to know, love, and serve God. Truly our actions speak louder than words, and St. Francis' comment, 'Preach Always, Use Words Only When Necessary,' really applies to parenting. The time our family spends in prayer at home and at Mass is an investment in our children's souls, and will pay dividends far greater than any other work we do on earth.

dadwithnoisykids